


Bound

by gemjam



Series: A Few Of  My Favourite Things [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bondage, D/s, Dildos, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-08 01:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16420001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam
Summary: Chris has them kneel on the bed naked, chest to chest, before slowly crossing the room and picking out some lengths of bondage rope.





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

> For the Kinktober prompt _bondage_

Chris has them kneel on the bed naked, chest to chest, before slowly crossing the room and picking out some lengths of bondage rope. He starts by fastening Stiles’ left wrist to Peter’s right. He wraps the rope halfway up their forearms before winding it through the space between and over the bindings, securing it in place. It’s snug but it’s not tight. He’s always careful about circulation and friction burns. Stiles knows he took courses.

He moves onto their other arms, Stiles’ right to Peter’s left, repeating the same bonds. Next is their chests, creating a harness around them. It’s more complex and he pauses several times to places fingers between ropes and skin to make sure he’s leaving enough room, make sure there’s space between them to draw in panting breaths and moans, without letting them escape each other. Or him.

He doesn’t talk while he works, fully focused on what he’s doing. He takes it seriously. But he also knows that he doesn’t need to ask, doesn’t need to reassure. They’ve both handing themselves over willingly. They trust him.

Chris encourages them closer together with firm gestures, shuffling so that their thighs are flush together, hot skin against skin, hips tight and cocks trapped between. They’re hard and damp with precome and Stiles groans, looking at Peter whose eyes are soft and almost not there. Stiles loves that look on him. Today he wants to go there with him.

Their chests slacken off more now that they’re this close, as Chris binds Stiles’ left thigh to Peter’s right, then his right thigh to Peter’s left. He does a final check on all the knots, all the crossovers, all the wraps, and then he shifts to the side of them, looking them over.

“That’s beautiful,” he says, petting them both in equal measure, his eyes scanning lovingly over what he’s created. “My good boys.”

Peter cranes his head into Chris’ touch, eyes closed to the sensation. Stiles looks up at him, pressing into Chris’ hand against his cheek, and Chris smiles so softly at him.

Chris’ hands slide over them, touching them everywhere, tracing the lines of the ropes, brushing teasingly over exposed flesh, both of them sighing and keening and trying to squirm, but they can’t, not really. Chris takes hold of the knot that ties their wrists together, lifting it and watching both of their hands rise up as one. It’s strangely disassociating and connecting at once.

“Mine,” Chris says proudly, lifting their arms all the way up, trailing fingertips down their sensitive underarms. Stiles can’t tell which of them shivers. Maybe both. It doesn’t seem to matter.

Chris lowers their arms again, placing them carefully by their sides before he’s climbing off the bed. Stiles follows him with his eyes, but Peter just rests his head down on Stiles’ shoulder, waiting. Chris grabs a bottle of lube and, after a moment’s consideration, a dildo. It’s blue and flexible and only a little bigger than Chris’ own dick. They don’t own anything smaller than Chris’ cock and Chris is impressive. Stiles still can’t take him in his mouth all the way, but not for lack of trying.

Chris returns to the bed, tossing down the lube as he kneels at their sides again, where he can lavish them both with attention. “Cub,” he says, prompting Peter to lift his head. Chris holds up the dildo. “This one’s for you.”

“Thank you,” Peter whispers. Stiles can see he’s already so far gone. Chris raises an eyebrow and holds the dildo pointedly closer. Peter cranes his head, placing a kiss against it. “Thank you,” he says again.

Chris smiles. “There’s my good boy.” He places the dildo aside and looks at them both. “My good boys.” He squeezes the backs of their necks before he runs his fingertips down their spines, giving each of their asses a gentle little slap.

He sits back for a moment, grabbing the lube and pouring some over the fingers of one hand before swapping and slicking up the other as well. Stiles can feel the anticipation thrumming through his body. He’s going to do them both at once. And if Peter is getting the dildo, Stiles guesses Chris’ cock is for him. He groans at the thought, even before anyone is touching him, but then Peter is touching him all the time.

Chris kneels up again, body so close to theirs, and then his fingers are pressing wetly at Stiles’ cheeks, smearing lube as he pries them apart to get at his hole. He can tell he’s doing the same thing to Peter, fingertips dipping slightly in, edging apart, before pulling out and one finger sliding almost all the way in.

Stiles and Peter groan as one, their cocks jumping together as Chris turns his finger, making a come-hither motion against their prostates. Peter buries his face in Stiles’ neck and it’s so intense, so intimate, to know that they’re feeling the exact same things at the same moment. Chris drags his finger out, presses it back in, and it’s almost like virtual reality, feeling Peter’s sensations in his own body, like they’re one.

Chris presses a second finger in and Stiles mouths at the side of Peter’s face until Peter lifts his head, their mouths messily finding one another. They kiss and moan and try to move against each other as Chris’ fingers fuck into them, teasing their prostates, pressing deep, playing with their holes. It’s mind-bending and overwhelming and it takes Stiles to a place he’s never been before.

Peter pulls his mouth away, kissing over Stiles’ neck, and Stiles turns to face Chris. A needy look is all it takes to have Chris lean in, claiming his mouth. Stiles, unlike Peter, is allowed to ask for what he wants, but he likes it when he doesn’t have to. He likes it when he’s beyond that.

Chris’ tongue surges into his mouth at the same moment that he pushes a third finger into both of their bodies. Stiles cries out, unable to process both things at once, everything in his head just an overwhelming cry of _good_. His body feels like it’s burning up, stuck sweatily to Peter’s, their heat multiplying between them as Chris kisses him obscenely. It goes on and on, fingers and tongue, and Stiles feels like he could come just like this, he’s sure of it, but a moment of clarity cuts through and reminds him that he doesn’t want that. Not yet. He wants Chris’ vision to play out. It’s always worth it. Always.

He pulls back from the kiss, needing some air, needing some sanity, just for a second. Chris grins at him, tongue darting out to lick his own lips, then he presses his fingers deep into both of them.

“Cub,” he singsongs. “Look at me. Eyes up.”

Peter groans and it seems to take a gargantuan effort just to lift his head. His eyes are fully glazed over, he’s so completely gone, and seeing that surrender makes Stiles slip further under with him. Chris kisses Peter, not as ferociously as he kissed Stiles, but just as deep and consuming. Peter moans, his bound arm twitching against Stiles’, clearly wanting to touch, to hold Chris and cling to him. Stiles takes hold of his hand, they’re already held together at the wrist anyway, and as their fingers twine together, Peter calms and stills and goes limp in submission. Stiles kisses over his jaw, feeling it move with Chris’ kiss.

As Chris pulls back, he slides his fingers out of their asses, wet hands resting on the smalls of their backs. He looks at them, the way they’re pressed so willingly together, nuzzling at each other with no real design. It just feels nice. An instinctive comfort.

“My good boys,” Chris says with something like wonder in his voice. “So good for me. So beautiful. I love you both so much.”

They’re words that have only ever been said in a scene, and sometimes Stiles forgets about them until the next time one of them utters them, in a moment of abandonment, all the barriers and inhibitions stripped away. He doesn’t think they mean any less for that. It’s the moment when the truth always comes out. Saying it when they’re all cognisant is something else though. That reclassifies all of their lives. It will come, Stiles knows. And it will feel as perfect as it does now.

Chris lifts his hands away, picking up the dildo and dribbling it with lube. “Let’s get this nice and comfy, Cub.”

He moves over so that he’s further behind Peter, lining the dildo up with his hole. Peter pulls his hips away from Stiles as much as their binds will allow, clearly trying to offer himself up, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. Stiles can tell the moment when Chris starts pushing the dildo into him, his whole body tensing and feeling like it’s vibrating. Stiles wants to hold him, wants to rub his back soothingly while he takes it, but all he can do is hold his hand tighter in reassurance and kiss his neck. It seems to help, Peter moaning as he’s stretched wide.

Stiles can’t really see from this angle, but Peter moves with Chris, fractionally but undeniably. Chris isn’t rocking the dildo, isn’t working it gently in, he’s just applying pressure and letting Peter’s body take it. Stiles knows from experience that he’s more than capable of it, especially when he’s slick and has been fingered open. Under Chris’ guidance and encouragement, Stiles has pressed his own slicked up cock into Peter’s unprepared hole, and it takes patience, but Peter has control and surrender in such perfectly equal measures that he can relax and bear down and just open himself up. It was one of the most overwhelming things Stiles has experienced. He ends up thinking that a lot when he’s with these two though.

It doesn’t take long for Chris to get the dildo settled inside him, flared base pushing against his ass. Peter is so fluid he thinks the ropes might be the only thing holding them up. Their weight is towards each other though, shared together, so it never feels like a burden. Chris kisses over the back of Peter’s neck, lips joining with Stiles’ for a brief moment before he’s pulling away from them both.

“Nice and tight, Cub,” Chris says, moving around them, grabbing the lube on his way. “Keep that for me until I can give you a nice fuck with it.”

Peter mumbles something, nodding his head against Stiles’ shoulder. Chris moves behind Stiles, the sound of the bottle opening leaving nothing to the imagination. He keens, trying like Peter did to present his ass. Peter moves with him, tries to help, groaning as the dildo shifts inside him.

Chris’ teeth nip at the back of Stiles’ neck. “We need to get you a pet name.”

“Yes, please,” Stiles sighs out.

“Later,” Chris says. He presses the tip of his slick cock against Stiles’ hole. “Ready for it?”

“Yes,” Stiles says, holding onto Peter’s hand tighter.

Chris gives him a little more time to get used to it, rocking inside and then pulling out, doing it again. He works carefully and patiently, even when Stiles tries to push back against him. He can’t get any momentum going tied to Peter though and he knows Peter has his mind on his own task right now, trying to keep that slippery dildo inside him. They have to help each other and that means bodies pressed together, staying as still as they can.

When Chris finally stills inside him, Stiles arches his neck back, head falling onto Chris’ shoulder. He gazes up at him and Chris looks back, breathless and flushed. He’s not as deep at this angle but it’s more than enough for both of them right now.

“I wish I could fuck right through you into him,” Chris says, voice rough and filthy and delicious.

Stiles and Peter both moan in response.

“Okay,” Chris whispers, pressing forward, making Stiles right himself. He reaches around their bodies, taking hold of the dildo.

Stiles and Peter look into each other’s eyes as Chris moves his hips, moves the dildo, fucks them both at once. He can feel tears welling up in his eyes at the wonderful togetherness of it, can see Peter transported to some indescribable place, but he drags Stiles right along with him. No, it’s Chris, he’s taking them both there. They’re his. His good boys. The words, even in his head, make Stiles shudder like he’s about to come.

There’s a push and pull through them and between them and he can barely tell what’s happening to him and what’s happening to Peter. He can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. He doesn’t want to. All he knows is that he’s surrounded by them both, inside and out, in his mind and in his body and in his soul. And he’s loved. And he’s good. And everything is perfect.


End file.
